spoon into the pint of chocolate-chip ice cream. “Oooh. Bad Julia. Having sex. Shame.” She took a bite, smiled and shook her head. “Not gonna happen.”
“But he didn’t believe me about the baby.”
Amanda frowned, leaned forward and picked up the other carton of ice cream, already open, a spoon jutting up from its frozen heart. Handing it to Julia, she said, “Okay, that’s terrible. He should have believed you. I’ve never met anybody as scrupulously honest as you.”
Julia took a bite of her strawberry ice cream, let the frozen sugar dissolve on her tongue and then said, “You should tell him that. He didn’t even consider what I was saying. Just flat out called me a liar.”
“And then to get back at him for that insult, you had sex with him.” Amanda laughed. “That’ll teach him.”
Julia grimaced, picked up a pink, ruffled throw pillow and tossed it at her friend. “I already said I’m an idiot.”
Still chuckling, Amanda asked, “The question is, was it worth it?”
“Oh, God,” Julia said on a sigh. “The man has magic fingers. And a magic mouth and a magic—”
“I get the picture. And color me jealous.” Amanda stabbed at her ice cream, scooped up a huge bite and ate it.
Julia winced. She shouldn’t be going on and on about Max and the incredible sex. Wasn’t Amanda here, living with her, because her own romance had ended badly? “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said guiltily.
“Oh, don’t be,” Amanda said, lifting her chin. “Not on my account, anyway. Yes, I loved a loser, but that’s over now. I’m good. Perfectly content with my chocolate-chip ice cream and vicarious thrills through you.”
“Humph. Those thrills have come to an end,” Julia said, hoping that her firm tone would even convince herself. “I can’t do this with Max again, Amanda. Sex isn’t enough.”
“Hmm. Won’t convince me of that at the moment.”
“Don’t I have enough problems?” Julia countered. “What am I supposed to do?”
Setting her ice cream down on the table in front of her, Amanda looked at her friend and said, “You’re the only one who can decide that, Jules. It’s your baby. Your life. What do you want to do?”
The answer to that question was easy and complicated in turns. She wanted her baby. But she was terrified of what would happen in the coming months.
Sighing, she said, “You know I always wanted kids.”
“True.”
“But I’d expected to be married first.”
“Naturally, but things don’t always go in order, either.”
“I want the baby,” Julia said. “But what happens when people find out about it?”
“Honey, this isn’t the fifties. Times have changed.”
“Times maybe,” Julia acknowledged. “But my family hasn’t. You know my parents.”
Amanda shuddered. “Good point. They wouldn’t exactly throw a party, would they.”
“To say the least.” She stopped for a moment and imagined having this little chat with her parents. She could almost feel their disapproval. Their shame. Their complete distaste for what she’d done and who she was.
The elder Prentices’ only concern was how things looked. If they found out their only child was pregnant and unmarried, they’d do everything they could to make her life a living hell. True, they couldn’t force her to get an abortion, but they’d surgically slice her out of their lives—and as bad as they were, they were her only family. Could she really stand being tossed aside?
Julia shivered and pushed those thoughts aside. “It’s not just my parents to consider, either. What about all the old-line charities I raise funds for? You think they’re going to appreciate the ‘unwed mother’ thing?”
“Your family will get over it,” Amanda said with more certainty than Julia felt. “As for the rest, you’ll deal with it as it comes.”
“Easier said than done.”
“If you want this baby,” Amanda said reasonably, “what choice do you have?”
By morning, Julia was still thinking about her friend’s question. All night long, she’d been plagued by nightmares. She could still feel the panic she’d experienced in her sleep as she’d run down long, dark streets, empty of people, but filled with shadows. She’d held her baby in her arms, and the infant’s wails had echoed off the buildings on either side of her. Rain stained the streets, and her frantic gaze couldn’t find a single person to help her.
To befriend her.
She shivered a little, shoved aside the remnants of the dream and cupped both hands around her mug of hot tea, hoping the heat would seep into her bones. She squinted into the bright spear of sunlight slanting in through the windows and told herself that dreams were not reality.
Besides, this was ridiculous, and she knew it. Here she was, twenty-eight years old, a college graduate, with a steady income, her own home and a select group of good friends. So she was pregnant and not married? What was the big deal? Other women faced this problem all the time. Why was she making such a mountain out of her own personal molehill?
“Are you that big a coward?” she asked herself and was half-afraid of the answer.
“Mail’s here.” Amanda strode into the breakfast room, dropped a stack of envelopes onto the table and headed for her bedroom. “I’ve got an appointment with a nervous bride in about an hour. Her prospective mother-in-law is trying to arrange the wedding her way. Hello, red flag, blushing bride! Run for the hills!” She shrugged, grinned and said, “Should be interesting.”
As an event planner, Amanda was always rushing to and from meetings with clients, suppliers and site committees. She was wearing a dark red business suit that looked amazing on her. As she walked away, she smiled over her shoulder and said, “Let me know if there’s anything in that stack for me.”
Julia dutifully flipped through the envelopes. Bills, circulars, party invitations … She stopped when she came to one without a stamp or postmark. It was addressed to Julia Prentice, but there was no street address on the envelope, only her name. Frowning, she broke the seal, took out the single sheet of paper and read the all-too-brief message.
Ms. Prentice—I know about your baby. If you don’t want the world to know, wire one million dollars to this Grand Cayman account. You have one week to comply.
There was an account number listed below the message, but obviously, no signature. A blackmail letter? Julia’s hands shook, then fisted on the single page of paper. Who was behind this? Someone in the building? Someone she thought of as a friend? Apart from herself, no one but Amanda and Max knew about the baby. Max didn’t believe her about it, and Amanda would never betray her.
So how had this … person found out? Had someone been listening at the Park Café? Had she been overheard despite her attempts
